


I'll make them believe

by SahadCaethlin



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternative Universe - Rise of the Guardians, Little Christmas delayed one shot, M/M, Minho is Santa Claus, Newt is the Easter Bunny, Teresa is the Toothfairy, Thomas is Jack Frost, Zart is the Sandman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SahadCaethlin/pseuds/SahadCaethlin
Summary: Thomas is sick and weak. He has never been weaker for the great role of Guardians also comes with very strict rules: the more the children believe in him, the stronger he is, but what if once again no one believed in him anymore?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write it down for Christmas but it got a bit delayed. Hope you will like it nonetheless.

****The snow was bright and fragile, whining under the foot. The wind cried in the icy valley but without carrying its usual ballet of snowflakes. It was a strange thing to witness in the North Kingdom and, as he stepped forward to the gigantic mansion, the Easter Bunny didn't like it: there was something alien going on. He didn't even shivered during his way to the edifice which hadn't happen in a while. Never, to be honest. The Bunny stopped in front of the massive doors and resolutely knocked. The sound echoed all around, just giving another sensation of emptiness to the Easter Spirit. He had never felt so down in this part of the world. The door opened on the Christmas Guardian himself, just adding a little more to the easiness of the situation.

"Newt." Minho saluted him as he let him in.

"Hi Santa." The Rabbit nodded, entering. "Sorry to bother at such time. I know you're busy."

"It's okay. I'm glad actually." His long time friend shook his head. "Never felt so worried on Christmas."

The fair haired spirit lead the way through the stairs and floors. Yetis and elves worked hard, moving and rumbling like bees. They were on December 23rd and never the Easter Bunny would have the boldness to come at such time if it wasn't crucial. And the hospitality of his host was just another proof of it. Newt stayed at his side as they walked:

"Min'... How is he?"

"I never saw him like that." The Christmas Spirit admitted. "Never... I... I truly fear for his life, to be honest with you."

The blond shivered and he knew it had nothing to do with the cold: cold had abandoned winter. He followed his guide to a series of doors and stopped in front of the most massive of them: a fresh breeze slipped from under it. Newt hesitated and looked at Minho, waiting for him to nod before pushing the door open. The windows were widely opened, snow covering the ground of the room, coming from the window like a white and fluffy river. And he saw him, little curled up form on the ground, near Minho's desk: Thomas. The Winter Spirit had his eyes closed a if asleep. His face was childlike. He seemed terribly young. For anyone else, the brunette would have looked like any other teen, but for them who knew him, something looked terribly wrong: his always milky skin looked almost as pink as a normal person, his cheeks were almost flushed... Newt was sure that his skin would be warm against his fingers.

He bit his bottom lip at the sight, knowing that all this was a bad sign. Thomas was the Winter Spirit, with fair almost white skin, snow in his hair and on his shoulders, with only his sweater and shreked pants, dancing barefoot in the snow with an eternal mischievous smile on his face. That was their friend. But what Newt was seeing right now was wrong. He knew it meant something he didn't want to hear but he stepped forward nonetheless and kneeled in front of their friend. The brunette's skin was almost warm under his touch as he had expected it and he looked back to the Santa Claus:

"Minho... What is happening to him...?" He murmured, his voice trembling slightly too much to his own taste. "How can he be ill? Guardians don't get ill."

"Well... We are not vulnerable  to diseases..." His friend answered sternly. "If not one."

"What?" Newt frowned, feeling his heart beating faster, not wanting to know and dying to in the same time.

"Children not believing in us anymore." Minho deadpanned. "Our role is to protect children of the world, we are their Guardians. But they are as much our strength as our most deadly weakness: the more they believe, the stronger we are, but if they stop believing then..."

"But... Thomas has lived about three hundred years without any problem!" The Easter Bunny objected.

"Because he wasn't a Guardian then. He was just a Spirit and nothing more." North sighed. "He chose to become a Guardian when we fought Gally the Boogeyman and defeated him... But now that those same children we save became adults and forgot about us... There is no child to believe in him anymore. Remember when Gally made all those children not believe in us? How weak we were?"

Newt felt his heart sink and looked back at Thomas who was still lying on the floor, sleeping in the snow. He must have hoped that the cold of the snow would get his fever down and allow him some relief. But it wouldn't. The Easter Spirit greeted his teeth: he knew what were the risks but he also knew he couldn't face them right now, looking up back at his friend:

"Isn't there something we can do?"

"You think I haven't wonder?" The Christmas Spirit groaned. "If you have any idea how to persuade millions of children that Thomas Frost exists, be my guest."

The Bunny's ears dropped at that and he bit his lower lip. He hated to feel so helpless. Thomas had done so much for him: when Jamie had been on the edge of not believing in him anymore, he had prevented it. The Winter Spirit had made a rabbit out of snow as the sign Jamie was asking for as a proof of Newt's existence. He had used his powers for... And it clicked. It was as if a bulb had suddenly lit up in the Easter Bunny's head and he looked back at his friend with a wicked smile:

"Call everyone: I might have an idea."

Minho's eyes widened but he didn't ask anything and walked to his desk, pushing the button that activated the signal: the Northern Lights. It was just a matter of time now for the other Guardians to come. The Christmas Spirit went back to the Rabbit, a serious expression on his face, as if not quite sure he should feel relieved that someone had finally an idea to help Thomas. Newt smiled nervously:

"I don't know if it's a good idea, Min'. But it's better than none."

"I know. The others will be there soon." Minho replied.

And as if it was a prediction: golden sand shone brightly in the dark sky at the horizon, advancing at a high speed towards them. Zart, the Sand Man, was coming. He arrived only seconds after, his glowing sand spreading all around him and disappearing in the snow. He didn't even bother to salute them:

"You called."

"Aye." Minho nodded and designated the Easter Bunny. "We might have an idea to save Tom-boy here."

Zart's eyes widened as he looked at Newt in a mix of disbelief and hope: Thomas had been ill for months but had shown signs of it only a few days ago, coming to Minho's kingdom, the coldest one, seeking for comfort against his rising fever. The Guardians had only beginning to notice it when the winter should have been well installed in the North hemisphere. But Europe barely went under 15°C, not mentioning the north of Russia or Canada. It was the warmest winter in history. Only then had they seek for the Winter Spirit and found him passed out in the snow, only a few kilometers of Minho's mansion. They had tried to heal him in many ways but his illness was not something they could cure that easily. Until now. Maybe the Easter Bunny had a plan.

"How?" Zart asked.

"Patience, my friend. Let's not begin without our lady or shall we live through her wrath."

Wings were soon being heard. The Tooth Fairy never lasted long before answering to the Northern Lights signal and there she appeared, all in bright green feathers with pink reflects. Her fair skin was shining with sweat as she had come as fast as she could. She stopped in front of them and crossed her arms, her breathing hollow:

"Well?"

"I might have an idea to save Thomas." Newt blurted out, seeing desperate hope suddenly burning in the blue eyes of their Fairy. "I don't know if it's a good idea or if it will work but... I need your help."

"Explain yourself." Minho ordered, all ears.

"We need to make the children believe in Thomas, right? Well, to make them believe, we must show them." The Bunny stated.

"And how do we do that?" Zart frowned.

"We paint the Christmas presents." Newt smiled nervously, his idea seeming more and more stupid to him but he didn't want to let it go: they had to try something!

"Paint the Christmas presents?" The Santa Claus repeated.

"Yes." Newt nodded. "Just like Easter eggs. We paint Thomas legend on every single one of them. To make them wonder who he is."

"And you really think children will look at the present paper?" Teresa asked, not convinced.

"They will if they dreamed of it the night before." The Easter Bunny insisted.

"You want me to make them dream about Thomas?" Zart murmured as the idea was processing in his head.

"Yes. And Teresa will help in that too: those children who fought Gally with us are adults now. But with the presents and children asking about Thomas... They will need your help to remember us all." Newt explained.

"That seems a pretty good idea." Minho smiled, visibly pleased and excited.

"Do you think it can work?" Teresa wondered, a bit concerned.

"It is the best and only idea we have, so let's work on it." The Christmas spirit stated. "Newt, it's your idea. Lead the way."

The blond smiled, happy that his friends thought his idea had a chance to work. They established their plan: they had only a few hours or so to decorate millions of presents. Minho declared they should focus on the presents destine to cold countries in winter: Thomas was the Winter Spirit and therefore only existed with the cold and snow. They all agreed and began to collect the presents in order to take them to Easter Quarters: Zart would use his sand to carry as much as he could. There, he would ask for help so the rivers and plants would help to paint the packages. Meanwhile Minho will motivate his yetis and elves to finish all the presents left in time, with Teresa and her crew of fairies who would wrap them all. Newt, on his part, would paint as many presents as he could. They didn't need every single child to believe in Thomas, just as many as they could.

As soon as they all agreed, they splitted. Newt went to the North Hemisphere finished presents depot and stayed a little stunned in front of all those packages. He only had a few hours. Only a bit more than 24 hours... He inhaled deeply and took his brushes from the bag at his belt:

"I better get started now."

He sat on the ground and opened his little bottles of paint. He didn't need to think a lot before painting: he knew exactly what he wanted to show to everyone. Thomas was a complex and fascinating being, he had a great heart an only craved for affection and fun. He had been there when Newt needed him the most. He prevented him from disappearing. So the blonde will show that to everyone: he began to paint, inspired as he rarely had been. The brushes danced on the presents as if possessed, painting scenes of his memories and others he visualised. The brunette's traits came easily to his fingers and he soon forgot about everything else: he had to work quickly.

The hours passed and the Bunny forced himself to continue: he was the fastest of the Guardians and could paint about a dozen of present a minute. He needed to paint as many as possible: he had never seen a Guardian in Thomas' actual state. He didn't know if only a few children would be enough or not so he had to do his best: he would save Thomas. He had to.

********

The fresh air ran on his face and in his hair in a relieving caress. The light was so bright it blinded him through his closes eyelids and he blinked several times before being really able to face the world. His lungs breathed in deeply and he smiled as he felt good. Truly good. Better than he had felt in months. Thomas sat and looked around: he was in Minho's office, the windows were wide opened and a heavy snow covered everything in the room. He laughed slightly as he imagined his friend cleaning and tidying his study and decided to get up and help a bit. The snow responded to his call, moving fluently and willingly. It was like meeting an old friend. His hand caressed the soft and cold surface as it moved out by the opened windows. It was so easy... He hadn't felt that fresh in months. He stirred and looked outside: the landscape was a real white beauty, all in mountains and snow.

Footsteps got his attention and he smiled mischievously. As soon as the door opened on Minho, a snowball flew in the air to crash directly in his face, tearing a grunt from him. Thomas laughed happily a his aim hadn't faltered and he flew through the room to meet his friend:

"Looks like I surprised you."

"Thomas...?" The Santa Claus looked up at him and, in a second, he was up on his feet, taking him in a bone crushing hug. "Finally!"

"Minho! Minho!" The Winter Prince half cried half laughed. "You're hurting me!"

The Christmas Spirit laughed happily and let him go, patting his shoulders. Thomas was a bit confused to witness Minho so happy to see him: he usually was but it wasn't that crazy normally. He laughed shortly and murmured:

"Looks like someone missed me here."

"We all did, Tom." Minho frowned. "You were in really bad shape."

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked, confused.

"You've been ill, Thomas..." The North Guardian murmured with concern. "You almost died... Don't you remember?"

Thomas blinked, surprised. He had been ill, for sure, but it was all blurry in his head. He didn't even remembered arriving at Minho's. He had felt pretty bad for months but he didn't really recall the last days. His friend's words were alarming: almost died? He frowned and huffed an uncertain smiled:

"What are you talking about? I mean, yeah, I felt pretty down but... I..."

"You arrived last month in here, feverish and lost, and you passed out, man." Minho blurted out. "Your skin was warm. And you were delirious."

"Really?" The brunette asked, not remembering any of it.

"Yeah. It freaked us out. We... We really thought you would die..." The Santa Claus whispered. "You... You almost disappeared when no one believed in you anymore."

"No one...?" Thomas repeated, stunned.

Of course, not many humans had believed in him anyway but it had never affected him. How could it get so nasty during the last few months? Why had he been so bad if no one had believed in him in centuries? He was about to ask to his friend but Minho spoke first:

"You're a Guardian, Tom. They believe, you're strong, they forget, you die. That's how it works."

"But... I... How...?" The Winter Prince couldn't manage to put his idea in order.

"Newt." The answer simply came. "He saved your life."

"Newt?" Thomas asked.

Really? The Easter Bunny? It was true that their relationship since Gally's attack twenty or so years ago had nicely evolved: they could call themselves friends at most. But Newt saving his life? Fighting for him? He blinked, trying to process it, and felt a hand landing on his shoulder: Minho was facing him and gestured with his head for Thomas to follow him. They got out of the room, the Christmas Spirit telling how it had been during the last month. The brunette couldn't even believe that he had been out for an entire month. But according to Minho, he had been on the edge of dying, his body at an almost normal temperature for a human. It was unbelievable for him. So hard to picture. But thankfully, the day before Christmas, the Easter Bunny had come with an idea:

"You painted me on your presents?" Thomas rose an eyebrow.

"Well, he did." Minho replied. "Newt painted thousands of presents, Tom. He painted until the very last second so children could believe in you again: Zart made them dream of you, of our fight against Gally or sometimes just as a playmates of theirs in the snow... And they really stopped in front of their presents and asked about you to their parents. To be honest I wasn't sure it could work and only accepted to do it because we didn't have any better idea... But it did. I mean, you're here and fine."

Thomas was uneasy. Had he really brought that much trouble to his friends? And more than that: had he really almost die? He couldn't quite process it but he wouldn't put Minho's words in doubt. They walked through the giant workshops and arrived at the depots: it was a series of huge rooms where yetis and elves could put thousands and thousands of presents, classing them per countries. They arrived in the America section and, at one edge of the giant room was a shape on the ground, in the dim light. Thomas' heart missed a beat and he looked at Minho. The Christmas Spirit only made a chin movement, silently ordering him to go there. The brunette gulped and nodded, penetrating in the gigantic empty space. It looked enormous. He walked for what seemed ages to him until he arrived near the shape and his heart squeezed: on the ground, Newt was laying in middle of covers. He looked so tiny. His features were swollened, dark shadows underlying his eyes, his skin pale... The only real color was the painting on his fingers, arms and face. Thomas could totally picture the blonde puting painting on his face as he put his hair out of his face. His blond hair was a messy halo, but tern... He looked so tired.

Slowly, Thomas put a knee down, near his friend. Newt had worked to exhaustion. Painting thousands if not millions of presents. A sob crushed the Winter Spirit's throat and, gently, he pulled the blonde into his arms, embracing him tenderly. The sobs became stronger and a sleepy voice murmured:

"Thomas...?"

"I'm sorry." It was all he could whisper in a strangled whine. "I'm so sorry."

He tightened his hug, trembling around this warm and limp body. The cold seemed to wake the Bunny up and he watched as the mischievous Spirit was no more than a crying child hugging him. A smile pulled slightly on Newt lips and he chuckled:

"Maybe I preferred when you were passed out. At least you had some dignity."

Thomas laughed. That bastard. He shook his head and gently let go of the blond. He stayed a little shocked first and then took one of his friend's strands between his fingers: the ashen blond had changed into a creamy white colour. Many strands had changed. Newt laughed at Thomas' expression and explained:

"That's my winter fur, you shank. You're so cold my hair changed."

"But... We are in the middle of winter... How come it changes only now?" The brunette wondered.

"I usually stay in my burrow at this time of the year. Or in warm places. So no need of winter fur." The Bunny shrugged. "I’m happy to see you got better though, even if it means winter will get tougher."

"You saved me..." Thomas whispered and bit his bottom lip as he looked carefully at the Easter Spirit. "You look awful..."

"Just a bit tired." Newt smiled.

"You're exhausted." The Winter Prince opposed.

The blonde sighed a small laugh and nodded slightly: who would he convinced otherwise? He felt wrecked. Thomas' arms embraced him once more and the brunette got up with him in his arms, bridal style. Newt rose an eyebrow at that, but Thomas only dismissed it, looking at Minho:

"You have a proper bed?"

"I'm no hotel." The Santa Claus groaned.

"But I wouldn't want all the Fair People to know that Minho is a terrible host, would I?" Thomas smirked.

"Slinthead." The Christmas Spirit mumbled. "First floor. Any door. Make yourself at home: I'm gonna sleep for the next three days."

And with that, he let them there. Thomas groaned and carried Newt out. The Bunny was a lightweight, much lighter he would have thought. The blonde didn't complain and, for few minutes, the brunette wondered if he hadn't fallen asleep in his arms, especially with the cold, but the blonde had simply his head against Thomas' collarbone, staring at nothing in particular. Just absent. He must be incredibly tired because it looked nothing like the Bunny he knew, so silent and just letting Thomas carry him around. The Winter Prince murmured:

"Thank you... For saving my life, you know..."

"Couldn't let you die, could I?" The blonde replied. "You looked so... Weak... It was wrong. The winter was almost warm... I couldn't let that happened: you saved my life back then. Against Gally. So it was my turn to save you."

"Yeah, right." Thomas chuckled as he opened a door.

It was a big room (Minho couldn't have tiny rooms, could he?), with a lit up chimney, a king size bed in the middle with white and red covers. The brunette took his precious weight to the bed and laid Newt on the bed, putting the covers on him:

"You should get warmer soon. Rest."

But as he straightened up to leave, he felt a hand grabbing his wrist. Newt was looking at him from under the covers, his hair a mix of white and ashen blond. His big dark chocolate eyes were staring at him and Thomas felt himself shiver at that: the Bunny always had intense eyes but never were they looking at him expectantly like now.

"All I wanted was to see you again." He murmured. "That's all I could wish for... For you to get better and just smile stupidly again."

Thomas let out a chuckle and looked tenderly to Newt, gently taking his hand in his and squeezing it. It was a strange thing to feel his heart getting all warm in his chest. Strange but not weird or unpleasant. He smiled:

"Sleep. I'll be there when you wake up. I promise."

"I'll be expecting you doing stupid things." The Bunny's muffled sleepy voice said.

"I will." Thomas' smile widened.

With that, the two dark chocolate lakes disappeared behind his eyelids and Newt was out asleep in a matter of seconds. He truly was exhausted. Thomas smiled gently and walked out of the room. He would get some chocolate for when the Bunny would wake up. He would love it. And Thomas owed him that much, right? They would have to talk. Seriously. Because there was no way Thomas could ignore that feeling blossoming like a fire flower in his chest, neither could he looked away from the Bunny's effort to keep him alive.

He couldn't ignore Newt. Not now, not ever anymore.

**THE END.**


End file.
